


the viking and the virgin

by LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch



Series: rie's destiel smut bingo [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Don't Examine This Too Closely, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Historical, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Missionary Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, The Author Regrets Nothing, Viking Dean Winchester, Vikings, Virgin Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 12:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16661156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch/pseuds/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch
Summary: Castiel tries to proselytize a Viking clan, but he falls for their leader instead.written for the destielsmutbingo. B5: Missionary





	the viking and the virgin

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the last square for the row I wanted to fill on my smut bingo card. I had a lot of fun doing this and decided to take the last prompt literally. After this, I'm determined to get back to my WIPs, so hopefully there'll be some new chapters coming up. 
> 
> Note/content warning: If you're religious, please tread carefully because Dean makes fun of Cas' beliefs, so decide for yourself if this fic might not be for you. Please let me know if I should add tags.

The missionary arrives one icy afternoon in late autumn, just before dusk is settling and confining the villagers to their halls. The children see him first, but keep their distance. Next are the old women who are sitting on benches in front of the huts to catch the weak sunlight for their mending and knitting. They whisper quietly to themselves and watch the stranger as he makes his way through the village.

Dean is alerted when the youngest of his nephews, named Sam after his father, comes running into the hall. “A stranger!”, he shouts, his voice hoarse and breathless. That’s worth a ruckus indeed, this high north and on the cusp of winter, when the traders have long journeyed back to their homes in the south.

Dean puts his hand on the thin shoulder while Sammy tries to catch his breath. “How does he look?”

Sammy’s forehead creases as he concentrates to give a full report. “He wears a dark coat or… dress with a rope instead of a belt. And he’s bald although he’s young. Blue eyes like a northerner, dark hair. He’s built like a fighter, but walks like an old woman, as if he’s careful not to stumble.”

Dean pats him on the back, proud that he taught the boy well. Details are important, and Dean’s curiosity is piqued by the description. “Okay, go. I’ll greet him and find out what he’s up to.”

 

+++

 

The newcomer’s name is Castiel, and as it turns out, he came to teach Dean’s clan about a very weird god. It’s been three weeks since he stumbled over Dean’s doorstep and huddled down near the massive fireplace to warm his fingers. An hour later, half the village had gathered in Dean’s hall to hear the tale of Castiel’s adventures.

Sammy had been right, Castiel eyes were as blue as the sea on a sunny spring day, and the back of his head was indeed bald – a sacrifice of sorts to the god he kept talking about – and he did, indeed, wear a dark robe made out of some scratchy linen. He also possessed one of the quickest minds Dean had ever encountered, a deep curious empathy for the people of Dean’s clan, and iron will of a warrior.

At the moment, Dean lets his eyes wander over Castiel’s form while he explains his beliefs to Dean again. Dean listens only with half an ear. He’s much more interested in Castiel’s long elegant fingers and the unblemished, milk-white skin of his neck. He sighs.

“But if Adam and Eve shouldn’t eat the apple, why did your god even put it there? He’s all powerful and you always insist he’s benevolent. But his actions are just petty. Even my gods wouldn’t be so mean.”

Castiel rakes his finger through his hair until it stands on end as if he’d been struck by lightning. He looks like a flustered cat. “Sometimes I get the feeling you don’t even want to understand.”

Dean nods slowly. “You might be right.” He grins. “Tell me again why you won’t have sex with me.”

Castiel, just like every other time Dean asked this question, blushes beautifully. The dark spots sprout from his clavicle, up his neck and to his cheeks. “Because it’s sodomy and God forbids it.”

“And it’s sodomy to fuck a sheep, too, right?”

Castiel nods.

“But shouldn’t there be, at least, an acknowledged difference between the two? I mean, I’m pretty sure my sheep don’t want to do _sodomy_ with me.”

Castiel’s gaze shoots up to his and Dean is once again shocked by the color of his eyes. They’re mesmerizing, even more so when Castiel can barely contain his rage like right now. “I don’t want that either.”

Dean tsks and shakes his head. “Ah-ah, Castiel, you just told me yesterday that lying is forbidden, too.”

Castiel falls quiet, just as Dean predicted. He never forced anyone into his bed. In fact, very few men or women had declined his offer over the last years. And if they did, they always had good reasons that Dean respected. He’ll respect Castiel’s decision, too, but he can’t help the urge to nag him about it.

It’s clear that Castiel desires him, it shows in the way his eyes linger on Dean whenever he thinks Dean’s not watching. Three weeks in a rather small shared space is enough for most secrets to be unveiled. It’s also a lot of time for Dean’s libido to become a problem. He hasn’t invited anyone over since Castiel moved in with him, and he restricted himself to short and silent sessions with his own hand. Dean doubts Castiel would appreciate watching Dean sprawling naked on his bed and moaning while he shoved a few fingers up his ass. While his imagination transgresses into unbidden daydreams, an idea springs to his mind.

“What exactly is forbidden?” he asks and puts on what he hopes is an innocent, curious expression.

Castiels brows draw together as if he’s sensing a trap, but he can’t let the opportunity slide to tell Dean about his peculiar beliefs.

“What do you mean?”

Dean rubs his thumb over his bottom lip and notices the quick heated look from Castiel with satisfaction. For good measure he licks over the spot to make his lips glisten in the firelight. “Are you … allowed to kiss?”

Castiel’s gaze is still glued to Dean’s mouth and he, probably unconsciously, licks his own pink lips, too. For the first time in their conversations, he looks unsure.

“The priests and even the pope kiss people on occasion,” he muses while he keeps staring at Dean’s lips.

“Great,” Dean whispers and smiles. “Let’s do that.”

Castiel looks dazed as Dean leans in and presses his lips to Castiel’s for the first time, softly, careful not to frighten him.

“Wasn’t bad, was it?”, he murmurs.

Castiel nods, so Dean does it again, brushes his lips over Castiel’s and licks along the seam. Castiel gasps, but makes no move to bring distance between them. Emboldened, Dean puts his hand on Castiel’s cheek and angles his head. Another lick, with more force this time, until he breaches the seal of Castiel’s mouth and can taste him, finally.

Castiel reacts with another surprised sound that turns into a soft moan when Dean strokes his tongue along Castiel’s, circles it, before he retreats and takes Castiel’s bottom lip between his own to suck on it. And still, Castiel doesn’t stop him. He’s trembling under Dean’s hand. Dean wants to worship him, wants to show him all the wonderful things he’s missing. He crawls forward until he’s seated in Castiel’s lap. Big blue eyes meet his, dark with want and doubt.

“Kisses don’t usually last this long,” Castiel murmurs weakly.

Dean chuckles and combs his fingers through Castiel’s hair before they settle on his neck.

“Oh, we’ve only just started.”

With that he captures Castiel’s mouth again, teases until Castiel kisses him back, tentatively at first, then bolder, more heated, just like Dean always imagined. Castiel, he’s been sure from that first day, would be a fierce lover when given the chance. He circles his hips to feel Castiel harden against him, but makes not move to touch anywhere else than Castiel’s neck and shoulders. His own cock is stirring just from the kissing, fattening in his loose pants. He feels like a boy again, fumbling his way through his first kiss behind the hay shed.

Luckily, he’s gathered some experience since then. Castiel opens up willingly under his insistent tongue, his soft moans vibrating through them both. Castiel, always a quick study, copies his movements and explores all the ways to bite and lick and taste.

“Cas,” Dean groans, “you’re made for this.”

Every careful stroke of Castiel’s tongue sends shivers of heat down his spine.

“I guess touching is forbidden, too?”, he asks with a quick look down at Castiel’s prominent erection. It looks decadent, tenting his robe like a pole. As predicted, Castiel nods.

“Then touch yourself.”

Castiel’s blush turns a deeper shade of red.

“It’s not allowed to touch oneself and spill one’s seed outside of marriage. I mean … it happens, sometimes at night, but I never …”

Dean, who had been oh so careful not to disturb the quiet, intimate atmosphere, can’t help himself. He snorts in disbelief. “What? Really? How do you even survive?”

Castiel’s expression turns sour and he tries to push Dean out of his lap. “I pray and it goes away. It works just fine. Usually.”

“Cas, stop.” Dean grips his shoulder to keep Castiel from wriggling out from underneath him. They’re both still breathing heavily from their earlier excitement. “Let’s kiss a little longer?”

Dean can see Castiel’s hunger for more warring with his better judgement. If even relieving yourself is forbidden, this kind of kiss has to be, too. Even Dean can see that. But Castiel, he learned over the last weeks, is far from his people and their rules, and he has a head of his own, a strong mind and enough fire to keep the both of them warm for a winter. Castiel fell into step with life in the village easily, and while Dean listened only half-heartedly to the tales of his god, Castiel watched and observed and learned a lot about their rules and beliefs.

Maybe he had seen that Dean does his best to be a fair and well-respected ruler, even though he shared his bed with whomever he liked. Castiel must have seen that Dean loved his family, his brother and his sister-in-law Amelia and their children. Maybe he had seen that Dean didn’t lie and didn’t steal and gave to those who needed help, even though he was a heathen. Maybe Castiel had started to doubt the rigid nonsensical laws he followed all of his life. Or maybe, just maybe, Castiel just wanted Dean too fiercely to ignore it.

“You called me Cas,” he murmurs now.

“Yeah, Castiel is kind of a mouthful in these types of situation,” Dean grins.

Castiel- , no, _Cas_ nods, then he takes Dean’s head in his hands and leans forward and the argument is over. It’s as if the last ropes that held Cas back are severed. He’s all teeth and spit and hunger when he kisses Dean again, and it’s glorious. Not long and Dean is writhing in Cas’ lap, rubbing against him to feel him thick and hard against his own length. They’re both moaning now, rutting in erratic thrusts, too eager to build a proper rhythm. Dean wants nothing more than to get them both naked and onto the bed, but Cas is making the rules for now. He’ll do what Cas wants, even though he’s shivering with the need to feel more skin, taste and squeeze and _mark_. Another time, he hopes, please let there be another time.

Cas might not know what he’s doing, but his body does. His hips rock up against Dean in search of friction, in search of something to penetrate, a warm body to fuck and spill into. What a nasty god to deny his people this pleasure, Dean thinks, and grinds down harder, mimicking the act Cas would be outlawed, maybe killed for. The cloth of Dean’s pants rubs unpleasantly against the head of his cock, but he ignores it. Cas’ desperate moans are all that matters right now, the way he’s panting against Dean’s open lips and gripping Dean’s braided hair.

“Yeah, that’s it, Cas,” he encourages hoarsely when he can feel Cas go tense. “Let go.”

Cas shudders violently in his arms, clearly overwhelmed by the intensity of the experience. It’s always the forbidden things, the ones that scare us, that make us feel most alive, Dean thinks. He staves off his own climax so he can watch Cas as he reaches his. Cas’ full lips are red and puffy from the kissing, shining silver slick in the firelight. His cheeks are tinged a deep shade of red, his lids closed as if he’s concentrating on a complicated task. Tiny pearls of sweat are beading on his temples and darken his hair to almost black. He’s beautiful like this. Dean can’t get enough of the sight.

When Cas reaches his peak, it’s with a soft sigh and a last shaky thrust. Dean keeps circling his hips to ease Cas through it and pick up the thread of his own pleasure. It doesn’t take long. His release washes over him like a gentle wave, taking all tension and built-up desire with it to leave only contentment and satisfaction. He holds Cas close while they catch their breath.

After a while, Cas murmurs against his neck. “Does it always feel like this?”

Dean smiles and plants a kiss on the top of Cas’ head. Tufts of hair are growing where there used to be that bald circle. “I don’t know, what did it feel like?”

“Like coming home after a long journey,” Cas whispers and holds Dean a little tighter. “Like … leaving all your baggage by the door and closing it against the worries of the world.”

Cas – Dean had found out early on – had the soul of a poet. “You could have that, you know? Here. This could become your home.”

Cas doesn’t say anything, but Dean’s happy that he made the offer.

Maybe Cas will stay. The winter would be colder without him.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [procasdeanating](https://procasdeanating.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Come say hi!


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